


We'll Fix This

by thenovaksisters



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Fix It Fic, Guilty Alec, Healing, M/M, flash back to Tokyo date, healthy relationship with proper comunication, implied self harm, malec supporting each other, set after episode 2x12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-15 00:19:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11219289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenovaksisters/pseuds/thenovaksisters
Summary: In the wake of 2x12, Alec reflects on his and Magnus’ date to Tokyo. Magnus has asked Alec to give him time, and that is what he's done, though he didn't think of the apprehension that came along with it which hasn’t spared Alec one night’s sleep yet.Now, two weeks later, Magnus wants to see Alec. It’s going to take time but they’ll fix this, and maybe a walk through Central Park will set the wheels in motion.





	We'll Fix This

**Author's Note:**

> So episode 12 left me with a lot of feelings that I just had to get out but I wanted to get this up before the next episode so it’s largely unedited and I’m sorry in advance for mistakes. I wanted Malec to actually have a healthy talk through everything that happened because I don’t believe in such a delicate situation that anyone other than Azazel is really to blame.  
> And I may have also really wanted to write my interpretation of the terrace kiss in Tokyo.  
> I hope you like it, I would love to hear what you think :)

The memory of the night will never compare to the aweing colours of the hours as he’d so blissfully lived them and it's something Alec will never forget: deciding he enjoyed the light of a skyline just for the company he shared the view with.

_***_

_(Tokyo)_

“You know the owner I’m guessing.”

The laugh Magnus passes at the statement confirms Alec’s guess and somehow the shadowhunter can’t help but smile at his accurate assumption. 

“Tricky relationship actually,” Magnus sighs, tone light and humorous as his words fade out like that’s all the answer he intends on giving. Perhaps guided by curiosity, Alec lifts his gaze to Magnus, pushing him to ‘go on’, and Magnus laughs again. “I wouldn’t have even call it a fling… it barely lasted a week.”

“But they’re still happy to rent you the terrace for a night?” Alec asks, walking out to stand beside Magnus at the terrace edge and take in the breath-taking view. And it really does just that, because as Alec’s stops by the warlock’s side, his breath catches.

Burning window lights line skyscrapers in their thousands, scattered abundantly over every looming structure silhouette that pierces the night sky. Lights burning like stars blanketing the ground, making it almost impossible to tell where the ground ends and the night sky begins.

“Not all flings end on bad terms. Many don’t.”

Magnus seems to answer Alec’s question for the sake of it because it’s clear both their attention has now been drawn to the sea of blazing city lights. And though they don’t speak, they don’t need to. The silence is comfortable. More than comfortable. Though the shadowhunter is acutely aware that after a while, Magnus reverts from watching the skyline, to watching him instead.

“I’ve never been outside New York other than Idris,” Alec mumbles after a beat, though he keeps his eyes trained to the sky. “It’s different… from this I mean. Less vibrant, dustier. The colours are… colder.”

Alec supposes this is because he’s lived there too long, it’s become less extraordinary and when things become less extraordinary, you start to see the faults a lot better. It’s meant to be one of the most grandiose city’s of the word, according to the mundane, but Alec finds himself disputing that in the face of this astounding view.

Magnus makes an affirming noise as if he agrees, “I wouldn’t live here, but it is quite the fabulous escape from New York.”

The warmth in his voice pulls Alec’s eyes back to him. Not because he knows where to look, not because Alec thinks he’ll ever know where to look when the light Magnus himself exudes, from the self-assurance flicking in his eyes to the genuine pleasure in his smile, is as beautiful as it is overwhelming.

Alec looks at Magnus because, despite it terrifying him, he wants to. It terrifies him as much as the thought of follow his heart had all those weeks ago stood upon an altar of lies and denial. Before Alec had kissed Magnus anyway, _just_ because he wanted to.

Sure it had been in the moment. Sure in retrospect, he could have stopped the wedding in a more courteous way for his Mother. But he’d wanted to kiss magnus, then and there, and it’s Izzy who keeps telling him that it isn’t bad to do thing just because you want to. 

Turning to Magnus does however make Alec aware of how close they’re standing, the air suddenly thick with a tension unlike the kind the shadowhunter is used to. The magnetic kind, heating the space between them, making Magnus’s touch burn with electrostatic energy as, clicking his fingers deftly, he passes Alec a glass of scarlet liquid, their fingers barely brushing.

“Tell me about yourself Alexander,” he says, bringing his own glass to his lips. Magnus makes no attempt to move back, perhaps because he enjoys the blush of Alec’s checks or his clumsily tripping gaze that doesn’t quite know where to settle itself.

Choosing Magnus own eyes as a safe bet, Alec lets his expression shift, eyebrows furrowing, before answering: “You already know all there is to know.”

“On the contrary, I don’t even know your favourite colour.”

The shadowhunter can see Magnus smiling as he looks up at the warlock through his eyelashes with an unimpressed look only slightly betrayed by the twitch at the corners of his lips.

“Okay, I suppose that one’s self-explanatory.” Alec lets himself smile when Magnus returns the gesture. Somehow, they’ve gravitated closer. And though they hold wine glasses that strictly should keep them from touching, both leant against the terrace ledge, they press against each other easily, naturally… familiarly.

“I don’t know what music you listen to,” Magnus begins again, voice quite because of the mere inches of space between them. “Or what your favourite book is… or what you do when you aren’t endangering that magnificent body of yours.”

Alec can feel his checks heat up at the compliment but if Magnus notices, he doesn’t show it, he’s too busy watching Alec through impossibly fond eyes.

“I don’t listen to music aside from what Izzy listens to.” The warlock fakes shock at that. “I find most books interesting.” Magnus sighs at that answer but continues to listen. “And when I’m not on a mission, I’m training for missions.”

“Alexander, there has to be something you do for fun,” he says, one hand dropping to Alec’s arm to set the skin there burning with his touch.

“I… I do read. A lot,” Alec stutters, trying to steady himself from this drunk feeling of proximity.

Magnus lightens up at this addition, his fingers have now taken to lightly tracing Alec’s forearm, along dark ink markings of new and old runes, outlining them lazily in a way that shouldn’t be distracting Alec so. “Anything I’d recognise?”

Alec can feel his blush darkening and it’s clear this time that Magnus is aware for how his expression breaks out in a grin. “Shakespeare…?” he mumbles.

If it were possible, Magnus’ grin grows, till the lights reaches his eyes and he’s glancing down to where his fingers have fallen to Alec’s hand and in a moment, he interlaces their fingers, words leaving his lips in less than a whisper: “Doubt thou that the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move…”

“Doubt truth to be a liar; but never doubt I love,” Alec completes, trying to breathe through the impossible increase in his heart rate as the drumming thud of blood thunders in his ears.

“How well does Alexander Lightwood know Hamlet if he is quoting it?” Magnus asks, looking up again.

“Whenever I was in Idris, if I wasn’t training with Jace I was usually hiding away in the library. I found happily ever after’s irritating…” Magnus laughs, “but I can quote his tragedies. Izzy says it’s depressing…”

“I, for one, find it endearing,” the warlock says, cutting him off. Alec raises his eyebrows in return, the questioning look between his features seeming to amuse Magnus, “it so very you Alexander.”

The statement twists something in Alec’s chest and he’s pulling his gaze away a second later.

“Is it something I said?”

“ _Very me_ ,” Alec repeats lowly but he does manage to draw his eyes back to Magnus’ slowly. When their gazes meet once more, the warlock’s softens. “I spent a long time trying not to be me… in the end I failed that too.”

“Thankfully. A life in which we are not ourselves, Alexander, is a very tiring and unfulfilling one.”

Magnus is looking back at Alec with a dimmed expression now and its clear the warlock dislikes the idea of Alec spending most of his life till now hiding who he’s always been. Alec isn’t sure if it’s this that gives him the confidence, but he for one dislikes that look on Magnus’ face. Before his rational thinking can get in the way, Alec’s leant all the way into the warlock’s personal space.

Alec can feel Magnus’ shock melt away almost instantly, kissing him back. It’s just a press of lips, quick and sweet, but lingered slightly in that Alec doesn’t pull back immediately, debating whether he ever thought being this close to someone would be so thrilling and inciting.

“Can my something I do for fun be being with you?” Alec mumbles.

The glass in his hand is gone with another click of the warlocks fingers which then move to Alec’s waist to pull him impossibly closer. Alec can’t help but grin as he feels Magnus’ breath ghost over his lips: “I’d be honoured.”

***

The memory of the night will never compare to the aweing colours of the hours as he’d so blissfully lived them and it’s something Alec will never forget. It’s something that should have been enough for Alec to realise. To realise that Valen… _Magnus_ was telling the truth. It should have been _enough_.

***

Alec Lightwood had learnt to fire an arrow by the age of ten. Fire it so it hit target dead on, without fault, every time he pulled the string taut, released the feathered tail, and let the deadly weapon fly.

In his small working mind – that had been all at once processing the sudden arrival of a Jace Wayland, his sisters recent gain of runes and Maryse beginning to regard him more like a soldier day by day – Alec had learnt that he couldn’t fail when it came to shooting arrows. And he may no longer be ten, but not much has changed since then.

The action is mere muscle memory now. Second nature to find the ease of firing the runed marker home, to pull and release and watch the demon’s body crumble to dust. To feel the reverberation of the sting as the arrow fly’s from his grip, adrenaline pumping through his veins in a sensation that’s become all to addictive.

He knows how to do himself harm too. Firing missiles into an empty sky till the blood slicks the skin between raw fingers. Pull and release. Pull and release. Pull. And. Release. Till the movement requires no thinking at all, and his head can focus on the ache in his fingers and the stillness of his aim. The aim that makes him a good shadowhunter.

A good shadowhunter. A great one. Who hurt the love of his life, almost saw out his execution, all because he was too busy being a good shadowhunter.

Maybe Jace will come out and find him again. Like he did last time, after Jocelyn’s death. Tell him to stop beating himself up about it as though that isn’t who Alec is: someone who’d rather die than hurt those he loves. Someone who’ll beat himself up regardless. Especially when it can keep him from thinking.

Though, this time, if Jace appears in all his well-meaning, it’s not as though Alec has anywhere he can disappear to…

Can Jace sense these kinds of things? It’s something Alec’s always wondered. He and Jace have always been able to tell when the other is dying but this? Can Jace feel the tingle between his fingers that stings violently for Alec. A feeling that can all at once draw his focus and calm him.

He should stop. His knuckles are still blue from training yesterday… through most of the night.

It isn’t rational. But Alec Lightwood has never been rational. Alec Lightwood has never been rational with regards to hurting those he loves. Hands that inflict pain on people Alec would die for, he beats till black and blue. Fractured past easy use till he no longer holds the capability to hurt them even if he tried.

And blood isn’t out of place on the hands of shadowhunters; even their own. Stopping isn’t a requirement. He’s doing nothing but improving his aim, despite the fact that there isn’t really improvement needed. The blood is but a side effect that he’d have to ignore in battle anyway.

It’s been two weeks. Two weeks since he last saw Magnus. Since the warlock was returned to his true body, since he’d told Alec that he would need time to process everything.

And Alec had given him just that but still found himself hating the idea of leaving Magnus alone so once the warlock had lopped off to bed, Alec had slept on the sofa, made coffee come morning and they’d kept silent company for most of the next day.

Bizarrely, it had been comfortable silence. Magnus seemed calmed with Alec there as a presence, even if they didn’t talk, even if any touch was fleeting. And when it had come to that evening, no sooner had they eaten dinner together that Magnus picked up Alec’s phone to glance at the time and found the multitude of missed phone calls.

And that had been the short of it. Magnus suggesting that Alec leave to go check what all the commotion was at the institute, Alec insuring that Magnus would be okay, before he left. And two hours later Alec had received a single text:

_‘Thank you for your company Alexander. We will talk, but for now I need time. x’_

Two weeks may be an exaggeration; one week later Alec had found himself back at the warlocks front door, desiring only to see that Magnus was ok. He had been – so he’d said – but that conversation too had been short-lived and Alec had left less than an hour later.

And two weeks later it feels just as painful. That he may never forget the ice-cold fear that had ripped through him the moment Jace appeared in the crypts to confirm it was indeed Magnus the inquisitor had every intention of killing.

He is brought out of his thoughts all at once with the vibration of his phone. He may be on the institute roof but if Izzy or Jace needed him, surly they’d come look for him before texting. Alec debates even paying attention to it at all, though his hands have come to a stop now anyway. Bloody and exhausted, they hang loosely by his sides, he’ll struggle to regain his firing pace.

So instead he pulls the phone from his pocket with two limp fingers with only a vaguely interested expression… that intensity’s instantly the moment his eyes lock on the screen:

_‘Wish to join me for a walk in the park? I’m in the mood for ice-cream. xxx’_

***

“Alexander,” Magnus greets, and if Alec didn’t know better, he’d say the warlock’s eyes are as brightly lit as always as he turns to watch Alec cross the street. He stands under a sign that in big metallic letters reads: ‘Central Park’, wearing a shirt just as metallic, ensnaring the light of a soon-to-be-setting sun and glimmering for it.

In fact, Magnus is glimmering in every aspect of his appearance down to the colour of his eyelids. He’s so distractingly beautiful Alec’s going to have to remind himself repeatedly that they’re here to talk, and to talk alone. He looks better than when the shadowhunter last saw him, but Alec isn’t stupid, he knows about masks and their favourable qualities over venerability.

Alec also can’t remember a time he’s been into Central Park when he hasn’t been in the pursuit of demons. Today he enters unarmed. Maybe that’s the reason why his heart’s hammering against his ribcage at a slightly alarming rate. Though Magnus is the more probable reason behind it.

Shaking loose whatever nerves still rattle blurrily in his vision, Alec pulls a smile onto his features as he stops before the warlock: “Hi.”

Magnus asked to see him. Magnus wanted him here. They’re here to talk, they need to talk.

“I know of two ice-cream stalls in this park…” Magnus begins as they start off walking side by side, “so it depends on how long you have.”

Alec freezes at that.

Is Magnus really asking him if he even has time to set aside? Has he been so enthralled in shadowhunter business recently that Magnus believes business comes before him? The questions feel heavy in Alec’s gut as he’s perhaps too quick to answer: “I’ve got all night.”

His reply earns him a grin however. Because that’s how their relationship works. Things like Alec’s inability to flirt or inability to speak at rational speeds and in full sentences around the warlock, are things that make him a fool and also the things that Magnus finds incredibly endearing. The things Magnus has claimed to love about him.

“Congratulations,” the warlock says after a few moments of silence bringing Alec out of thought. Central Park gets its name because it is precisely that: central. So while the trees fool nature, the air still buzzes with the noise of the city churning around them as Alec turns a questioning look towards Magnus.

“I heard you were the one who managed to take down Azazel.”

Alec’s stomach turns; fat lot of use that was, Azazel had already wrecked his damage. The victory had seemed grand in the moment, but it leaves nothing but a sour taste in his mouth now and while Magnus’ congratulations feels more than genuine, he wishes it wasn’t.

“I did what I had to do,” Alec mumbles, eyes following their feet as they fall into equal step, side by side so they’re almost touching, but not quite.

“Defeating a prince of hell is no small feat Alexander.”

“Tell me if the questions stupid, but are you feeling better?” Alec asks quietly, eyes nervously flicking up to Magnus’ because the question is eating away at him and he can’t hold back from asking it anymore.

It’s a surprise to the shadowhunter then when he sees Magnus smile weakly, “I am, and it isn’t stupid.”

Silence falls between them again but Alec lets it. He’s already calmer in Magnus’ company.

Despite the fact he usually despises walking among the mundane unglamoured, this evening, the park is filled with hand in hand lovers and lulled conversation and an atmosphere that’s suddenly managed to strip Alec of all his tautness and for the first time in weeks, his shoulders hang slack.

As per Magnus’ word, they buy ice-cream from a red and white chequered stall, Alec plain vanilla because despite Izzy claiming he’s boring, it really is just Alec’s favourite flavour, while Magnus goes for mint with chocolate chip. And they remain in silence some more.

It’s once Alec knows they’re a good way into the centre of the park that he risks the question: “Do you want to talk about it? The memories, I mean. Because I want to listen, I’m here to listen if that’s what you need.”

The warlock seems to debate Alec’s offer silently before his gaze fixes on something just beyond Alec’s shoulder.

“Shall we sit?” he asks, gesturing to a vacant bench just a few meters from where they’ve stopped walking.

Alec nods and when they sit, he’s careful to put space between them. Heat fills his chest when it’s Magnus who moves to close it: “Alexander… you… know that when I was nine years old, my, my mother… she killed herself…”

Though he pauses to breathe through feelings that occasionally overcome him, Magnus slowly recounts memories of his mother and his step-father. He talks about them tangled with the traumatic earlier years of his life, how for a while he thought he’d finally moved on from them, _finally_ they didn’t influence every choice he made, and how two weeks ago had proved him wrong.

All the while, Alec listens without interruption.

His chest aches. Aches for what happened to Magnus and aches for the chance to change it or erase the crushing bits, however impossible that may be. Aches to hold the warlock close, and aches to wrap his arms around him when Magnus does ultimately drop his head to rest it on Alec’s shoulder.

When he comes to the part about Camille saving his life on the edge of a bridge some centuries ago, Alec remembers to focus on her saving Magnus’ life and not on how she wrecked it to begin with; breaking his heart and scattering the pieces mercilessly. 

When Magnus’ words eventually fade out, the shadowhunter realises that with all the years Magnus has lived, what he’s just recounted is probably a mere fraction of it and his chest aches more.

“They say time heals all wounds and I’ll vouch for that to an extent. It fades wounds but it does not heal them entirely.”

“Magnus I’m…”

“I already know you are sorry,” Magnus cuts him off, but his tone lacks irritation. By now he sounds tired, his head heavy on Alec’s shoulder.

In the time since they arrived at the park, the sun has almost set, and stars now litter the clear outstretching sky above their heads. The breeze nips slightly at Alec’s jacket but he’s warm where Magnus rests against him and that’s all he can find concern for tonight.

“Jace says you haven’t been sleeping.”

“You’ve been talking to Jace?”

“Curiously, he keeps stopping by to check on me; I never knew he cared so,” Magnus jokes, and Alec finds his desire almost overwhelming to hear that light-teasing tone in the warlocks voice again. “And he’s worried about you. Though I told him that we’d talk when it felt right.”

“Jace needs to learn to stay out of my business,” Alec mumbles.

“I don’t blame him for his concern,” Magnus returns as he takes Alec’s hand in his own and drags his fingers lightly along the blueish tint on his knuckles. Alec had activated his Iratze before coming but the extent of the wounds scattered across both hands had been extensive enough that most are yet to fade. “I do not blame you Alexander.”

Deciding that pulling away or attempting to hide his injuries is all but a lost cause now, Alec sighs, “I… I blame myself. I should have…”

“Alexander,” Magnus says, a warning tone to his voice, “you were raised to never believe a word out of that man’s mouth, never mind the fact that you brother’s entire life has been wrecked over and over again by his lies.”

Alec feels the need to argue but what Magnus says is true. Exactly true. Despite whatever doubt he’d had at first, the moment he’d seen Jace again, spoken to him, all the times Valentine lied to Jace flooding back to him, the whole idea had become absurd. Valentine was pure evil. That much he’d known all his life. He couldn’t believe any words from his mouth.

Of course, that justification almost got Magnus killed…

“I was hurt you didn’t believe me, but I cannot blame you for it. If there is blame at all it falls entirely on Azazel and you sent him right back where he belongs. All we can do now is…” the warlock sighs, long and heavy, lifting his head to finally lock eyes with Alec, though the shadowhunter is nervous to do return his gaze, “all we can do now is try to heal.”

“I’m sorry,” Alec murmurs, feeling all his emotions tie knots in his chest.

“I forgive you,” Magnus replies. “We can fix this, Alexander. Together.”

***

The walk back to Magnus’ loft is in silence… again. Though, Alec’s starting to learn that silence can be quite comforting, especially when he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to contain his emotions if he opened his mouth to speak again.

Magnus is hurting. Alec can feel that. It radiates from him because, opposed to what you’d think, the warlock wears his emotions largely on his sleeve, for those who care to notice. Alec had heard the hurt in the rawness of his voice as he’d reminisced about his past, and later, had seen it reflected in his eyes as he forgave Alec for an apology he hadn’t asked for. 

His voice had been deflated, unlike Alec had ever heard it before, but as the evening had progressed, his mask had slowly dropped. Magnus isn’t ok, but Alec’s not leaving him now.

“Are you coming in?” the warlock asks wearily and yet, as he turns to Alec in his doorway, his disposition is calm and… content? Genuinely so. A small smile rested on his lips.

“Do you want me to?”

“I don’t desire being alone if that’s what you’re asking,” he replies simply and Alec nods, stepping into the loft behind the warlock.

“Magnus,” Alec hesitates a second then, unsure of how to continue, or even how to re-approach the subject. “I just wanted to say, I’m always here to listen and… I want to help, in any way I can.” He stammers on a few words but the sentence comes out mostly unfractured.

“Thank you, Alexander. And I can tell you that your mere company helps.”

Alec smiles at that, because he wants to smile; he feels the need to smile at last, after all they’ve talked about. When Magnus mirrors him, the shadowhunter can feel his heart stutter in his chest.

Stepping forward, Magnus holds out both of his hands, his features morphing to an expecting expression and Alec’s following realisation sends a flicker of conflict across his hazel eyes. Then he’s placing his bruised hands in Magnus’. He feels the heat in his muscles sooth the throb he’s become used to.

“When you hurt yourself, you hurt me.” The words are so quiet, Alec barely hears them, but they burn nonetheless.

“I don’t want to hurt you… ever.”

Magnus smiles again and Alec’s desire to close the space between them is pestering him unbearably: “Magnus, can I kiss you?”

He grins looking back up at the shadowhunter, and it’s the brightest the warlock’s eyes have been all night. At last he steps into Alec’s personal space, pressing their bodies together, “please.”

It’s a reunion, the desperation of it as Alec captures Magnus’ lips with his. It’s a confession, the devastating determination in how their mouths move together to spell out their ‘I love you’s’ without words. It’s a sorry, in the slowing down, and a promise, in the lingering after, sharing each other’s breath.

And Alec’s never been more sure of anything else in his life: They’ll fix this, together.

 

**Author's Note:**

> ...thoughts?


End file.
